Fields still buff and dun
in soft spring sun
Ditches full of ice
the snow leopards
lounge still
in the shade woods
And yet
gardenside, the first
fresh three inches of new green
on the iris, still nestled
in last years leafings
and the evergreen of
the Christmas ferns
All waiting waiting on
the first flower:
coltsfoot.
.
.
1 comment:
I don't mean to intrude, puddle, but this is the best you've ever written.
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